


light up my world

by WincestOTP



Category: Supernatural, Wincest - Fandom
Genre: First Time, M/M, Underage - Freeform, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 23:09:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4895845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WincestOTP/pseuds/WincestOTP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For this prompt:<br/>Absolute headcanon for Dean setting up a romantic night for Sam after one too many cloudy days. Lots of sex ensues.<br/>Oh, and I have a strong smart!Dean kink, so additional headcanon - Dean figured out how to make one HIMSELF. For Sam.<br/>(Dean makes a constellation projector for Sam)</p>
            </blockquote>





	light up my world

When Sam turned 15 he became fascinated by astronomy. Dean thinks it started when John started pushing Greek myths at them, trying to figure out how to kill a siren. The monster of the week turned out to be something else entirely and Dean moved on, more interested in practical knowledge, but Sam…Sam fell in love. It was a way to make science beautiful and hunting more palatable, and when he found out about the Perseid meteor shower he was nearly beside himself with excitement. They were in the perfect place for it, too—an old ramshackle house by a lake with a dock that they’ve spent half the summer diving off, perfect place to set up their lounge chairs and sip the beers Dean had conned from convenience store that served tourists during the summer months. 

Sam spent the last week of July surreptitiously crossing off the days before the shower and keeping an eye on the upcoming weather forecasts. Dean watched him in bemusement, not really understanding his excitement but pleased by it nonetheless. Things had been…tense, lately, between Sam and John, between Dean and John and most especially between Sam and Dean. Sam was changing, growing up, and Dean couldn’t help but notice, couldn’t help but notice the way Sam was looking at him, too. It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time, and Dean couldn't help the excitement that curled through him at what the rest of the summer might bring. 

The day the meteor shower was supposed to begin, clouds started rolling in. Sam started getting a little antsy, especially when the old man at the convenience store said knowingly, “Gonna sock us in, this one…I’ve seen these summer storms last a week or more.” The cloud cover got thicker the next day and Sam’s mood got darker. Dean hated to see him so disappointed—there simply wasn’t much in their lives for Sam to look forward to and Dean wasn’t quite ready to let it all end. 

When they first moved into the old house Sam and Dean had spent a couple of days checking out the attic and basement, scrounging for anything they could use for entertainment or to make their lives a little easier. In one corner of the attic they’d found a bunch of rusty cans with holes punched in them. They’d puzzled over them for awhile before Dean shined his flashlight through the holes and patterns jumped onto the wall. The cans amused them for an hour or so, then they forgot about them in favor of the stack of old records and record player that they’d managed to get working even though all the records were a little warped. 

Now, with the clouds here to stay and Sam’s crestfallen expression moping at him from every corner Dean has the barest glimmering of what he might want to do. He sneaks off to the ridiculous excuse for a library and gets a few printouts—star charts, outdated and misplaced, sure, but Sam hopefully won’t mind (Dean has no hope at all that he won’t know). He grabs tea light candles and beer from the convenience store and spends a couple of hours in the attic, humming to himself as he pokes and prods and tinkers.  
The next day—the final day the Perseids will be visible—the clouds are still hanging dark and ominous over the lake. The sun peeks out a little around noon, but really it’s nothing but overcast skies and humidity so thick going outside feels like drowning. They play a little at the lake, but Sam’s heart really isn’t in it, and he seems so sad that Dean doesn’t even try to tease him out of it. The day drags on and after dinner Dean ducks out of washing dishes to set up the surprise he’d put together for Sam. It doesn’t take long, sleeping bags on the floor, the old record player, a few candles, the battered green cooler from the Impala’s trunk that they used as a nightstand. 

Sam was just sulking in from his (in his opinion undeserved) KP duty when Dean finished. 

“So unfair,” he groused, kicking off his shoes and shutting the door. “ ‘m in the kitchen slaving and you’re—“

Dean plugs the record player into the outlet and pulls away the cloth covering his contraption, bringing the room to life. There are pinpoints of lights—constellations—all over the walls. As Sam watches, tiny streams of light flicker and fade across them, cutting through them like shooting stars. It’s not perfect, of course, but he still hears Sam suck in a sharp breath. 

“What do you think, Sammy?” Dean asks, pride and hope in his voice. “Not quite as good as Mother Nature, but since she’s being a bitch…”

“Dean—how?” Sam dropped to the floor next to his brother, staring in awe at the moving lights. 

“That old record player we found in the attic,” Dean says happily. “I punched out some star charts and glued them to an old lamp shade. The I got some candles—mmmph” 

Sam doesn’t let Dean finish his story. He grabs Dean by the t-shirt and pulls him close, pressing their lips together hard. It shocks Dean for a moment—he’d thought about this but he didn’t—he never—and then instinct takes over and he’s kissing Sam back, guiding him toward gentleness, running his tongue over the closed seam of Sam’s lips. Sam opens for him with a tiny, desperate sound, pushing Dean back until Sam’s sprawled on top of his brother, elbows to either side of Dean’s head, Dean’s hands in his hair. 

Finally Sam pulls back just a little, panting. Dean can feel the hard, hot line of Sam’s cock pressing against his thigh, knows that Sam can feel him as well, but it feels strangely distant compared to the fire in his little brother’s eyes. “I love you,” Dean whispers without meaning to. Tiny streaks cross Sam’s face, not really enough to see by, but Dean doesn’t need light to see the fierce joy on Sam’s face, or hear what he whispers in return.

_I love you too._


End file.
